


Tolerance

by Heavenlea6292



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, past megstiel that didn't work out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:59:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenlea6292/pseuds/Heavenlea6292
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could only tolerate so much cuddling and feelings at once, but as his body pressed against hers and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, she realized that maybe she could do a little more than just tolerate it.<br/>(From a prompt from my Follower Appreciation Contest)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tolerance

Meg had shared Sam’s room since she’d returned to the bunker, and she’d made herself relatively comfortable there. She hadn’t exactly asked permission, of course. But she knew Sam was a restless sleeper, she could hear him when she wandered through the bunker at night, unable to sleep herself. One night she came in with her gossip magazine in hand, parking herself at the bottom of the bed.   
"What do you want?" Sam groaned into his pillow. She flipped through the glossy pages, her voice low and gentle as she started talking.   
"You wouldn’t believe what’s in the Stars-They’re Just Like Us section this week. You haven’t seen the fall of humanity until you’ve seen Andrew Garfield pick a wedgie from his Spiderdork costume. And apparently Gwen Stefani thinks it’s a good idea to let her kid run around in grass in white socks. Grass stains are as bad as blood stains, let me tell you…"   
Sam only grunted in response, but Meg kept talking in the same low, soothing tone until she heard his breath even out and his body relax.  
She figured it had to do with the fact that Sam wasn’t used to quiet when he was trying to sleep. She had heard Dean- he snored like a fucking chainsaw half the time and the other half of the time he talked in his sleep. Sam needed something to fill the silence, and from the looks of the “Soothing Sounds for Sleep” CDs that were piling up on his bedside table, he needed something less synthetic to help.

Slowly, they settled into a routine. Sam would go to bed and Meg would trail after about a half hour later; her spot at the end of the bed promoted to a spot next to him with her own pile of pillows. She sit and read whatever suited her fancy and talk about it until Sam drifted off to sleep, and then she’d just stay there, reading and watching over him. She knew that it took a lot for Sam to trust someone to be near him while he was sleeping, and she intended to guard him and keep that trust sacred.   
After all, he had been her cause for ages. She enjoyed it, and him.

But there were some nights when Sam was too wired to sleep and they’d lay there, talking. And Sam would move closer and closer until somehow, his arms were wrapped around her waist and his head was on her shoulder, reading with her.  Like tonight.   
"And I thought us demons were messed up," Meg mumbled, flipping the page, "This story is crazy."   
Sam sat up, leaning closer.   
"Where are you at?" he asked interestedly, moving close enough that their legs were touching. She smirked.   
"Ned Stark, Mister Morality just got his head lopped off,"she replied, "God damn. Someone has got to get that kid under control." Sam laughed, pushing her hair over one shoulder and resting his chin on the other, his arms winding around her waist.   
"That’s nothing," he replied, "Wait until you get to book two." She laughed, rolling her eyes as she continued reading.   
"Meg?’ he asked, his mouth too close to her face for her comfort.   
"What’s up big guy?" she replied. She felt him pull away, sitting up fully and towering over her as usual.   
"Can I ask you a favor?" he asked. She set down the book, looking up at him.   
"You know you always can," she replied, "But I always reserve the right to tell you to piss off."   
"I know," Sam replied sheepishly, "I just…I know you don’t like touching, but…"   
"Don’t hurt yourself. But…?"   
"Can I just…y’know?"

They’d had a conversation once about this. He’d pulled her close to him, his arms wrapped around her and pressed her against his chest in the bed and for a moment, she sank into it- until she realized what he was doing. Sam was a cuddler, she knew that, and she could handle the small amounts of cuddling he did in bed and even throughout the day- an unprompted, lingering hug from behind when she was doing the god-awful busywork that Dean seemed to think she needed, an arm around her shoulder and his head rested on hers when they watched TV, even his head planted in her lap after a long hunt. She could deal with these small affections; at first simply tolerating them. But they grew on her, and she loved the way Sam’s whole body relaxed when she let him do these little things that she imagined meant nothing to other humans, but meant alot to him- and to her. She knew what he was asking for and even though it was something that she usually couldn’t stand, she could tolerate it for Sam. But he knew that it had to be on her terms. 

"Well, I did commandeer one of your shirts for bed, it’s the least I can do," she replied, giving him one of her rare genuine smiles, "Sure Sam. I can do that."   
"You can do that?" he asked, looking surprised.   
"There an echo in here or something?" she teased, laying down, "Yeah, I can do that. Come here." She opened her arms up as a smile lit up his face, wrapping her arms around him as his head rested on her chest. She felt one of his legs hook around hers, one arm sliding underneath her around her hips and the other resting on her stomach. She slid her fingers through his hair, rolling her eyes as he hummed a little.   
"That’s weird," he said softly, looking up at her.   
"What, the fact that you’re twice my size and managed to wrap yourself around me like a damn anaconda?" she teased. He looked back down, running his hand over her stomach and stroking her hip.   
"No," he said, "You’re…really soft."   
"You calling me fat?" she teased.   
"No," he replied, looking up at her again, "I just never noticed before, not like this. It’s really nice."

Sam was always one of the few people who said kind things to her, but that was the nicest thing that anyone had said about her in ages. She knew Sam and Dean thought that Cas’s thorny beauty comment had been a compliment to her, but it didn’t feel like one. It made her feel as if being so dark and hard and dangerous made her some sort of forbidden beauty, something that people would gawk at but never get close enough to touch. But here was Sam Winchester, the most dangerous hunter in the world, coiled around her and calling her soft.   
"Was Jessica soft too?" she asked, playing with his hair. He shook his head, sighing softly.   
"She was very..I don’t know," he said with a shrug, "She really had to be in the mood to do something like this. Half the time, our sleep schedules were so messed up that we didn’t even get a chance to kiss goodnight," he explained, "But no…she wasn’t soft; not like this."   
"And Ruby?" she prodded.   
"I never cuddled with Ruby," he replied, "It…it wasn’t like that. Not for me." She nodded pensively, looking down at him as he looked up at her.   
"What about you and…ah, Cas?" he asked. She chuckled a little.   
"Castiel saw me in a certain light," she replied, "All my thorny beauty. But you know what’s rotten about thorns?"   
"What?"   
"They always hurt you," she replied quietly, "Thorns can be pretty, but you can never touch them without bleeding for it,’ she looked down at Sam, a sad smile on her face, "When he kissed me, he made me feel clean. And it made me feel so rotten about myself, you know? Like he was saving me. And I hated it." She shook her head, "I don’t need to be saved."   
"No," Sam said quietly, his fingers tracing over her arm, "You don’t."   
"They say that opposites attract," she said, "But we were too much of opposites."   
"Why do you say that?"   
"Because I am everything that the little treetopper can never be," she replied, "I was human, and then I became a demon. He can never experience either of those things, and what’s worse; he can never empathize with them either. Just like I can never understand being an angel."   
Sam nodded, his grip around her tightening a bit.   
"Thank you," he mumbled.   
"Don’t thank me," she replied, "I may make you bleed yet, Sam Winchester."   
"I don’t think so," Sam said, yawning, "I trust you too much to believe that."   
She bent down, kissing his forehead gently.   
"Go to sleep, Sam."

She could only tolerate so much cuddling and feelings at once, but as his body pressed against hers and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, she realized that maybe she could do a little more than just tolerate it.


End file.
